


Yinnae of Faerfire ~ A dark fantasy

by jacob_sayid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dark Magic, F/M, Fantasy, Magic, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Sexual Slavery, Spells & Enchantments, Truth Spells, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Wordcount: 5.000-15.000, Wordcount: Over 10.000, Wordcount: Over 20.000, wordcount
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:51:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacob_sayid/pseuds/jacob_sayid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>YINNAE of FAERFIRE<br/>A Dark Fantasy</p><p>“Yinnae, daughter of Annina of the Faer<br/>made unto him that is made unto her<br/>Bënawen ça Star, son of G’ulach, lost of the circle<br/>made unto her that is made unto him”</p><p>Yinnae = yin-EYE-uh</p><p>Music I listened to while writing Yinnae: David Sylvian, Robert Fripp, Wojciech Kilar, Richard Robbins</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

YINNAE of FAERFIRE  
A Dark Fantasy

“Yinnae, daughter of Annina of the Faer  
made unto him that is made unto her  
Bënawen ça Star, son of G’ulach, lost of the circle  
made unto her that is made unto him”

The last dark hour of a long-waning night had come to Ellswood. I stood alone in darkness, the gentle wind alive around me as the unseen hand of night, moving over my skin and through my hair, pulling softly at my clothes. I felt my spirit stirring, my blood quickening as I breathed deeply of the fragrant night coolness mingled with the smell of living water, sacred at my feet.

The wind whisper in the trees, the dark water so softly chiming a gradual descent, these pleasures of night and freely offered, reminded me of my life before, when I had been my own. How different my life was then, not so long ago, though that time forever gone now seemed to me both distant and strange. For the focus of my life, of this and every moment, had become this and at times nothing more: that I concentrate on remaining cloaked and hidden, and in keeping myself so - as with each breath - remain so ever vigilant.

I felt my breath deepening as this quiet moment came to me as gift, restoring my spirit, feeding my passion for life as a thing separate from avoiding capture, suffering, and worse; all that I had known in the time before I left this place, almost one month ago. For it was nine days passed since I had returned once more to Ellswood, to this journey’s end, and the one I sought to leave forever behind me.

Already in this time had several of his men returned to him, the last two coming in daylight, speaking of their efforts to find me as I sat cloaked nearby, listening, watching his face as they recounted their searches. _"None of the search spells have found her. The many crossings of her trail... all are now cold. Begun again a sweep from the great river to the Elluuin of Ellswood, from the Felren to the western pass of Shalaren. Surely this time..."_

And I had looked upon him, upon his face as he listened, as he gazed impassively past his men, past the open flaps of his tent and his quarry invisible not twenty paces from him, his long hands hanging relaxed from the arms of his sit-rest, his body long and unmoving upon the darkly woven cushions. His reaction showed little; not disappointed, not even curious, no signs of consideration or speculation on how I yet evaded him showed upon his face. But certainly not disinterested; he was still determined to make of me his own.

And as I looked upon him, upon his long hair loose and center-parted, the many strands thick upon his broad shoulders... unseen and yet I saw the silver-blue of his eyes, that most startling part of his face, the place you were compelled to look if you dared look into such a face.

I had first looked into those eyes almost three months ago, captured as I dreamed of home upon the branches of a lowland oak, its great arms spread wide over the crest of hill from which I had watched with pleasure the setting sun and the surrounding lands falling slowly into darkness. I had opened my eyes and looked into his, so close and smiling as I struggled in sudden fear against strong arms. His strength was incredible; his breath and his groping hideous. I felt his interest in my reactions as he played at containing my struggles, as his presence slowly closed around my mind, steadily bearing in upon me, draining me of all strength.

“Mother...!” I called out in my own tongue, the sound so very small beneath the sky’s endless breadth, an encircling darkness that now closed in upon me, seemed to belong to the one who covered me.

Holding to me with one hand, he delighted in my weakening efforts at struggle, that I closed my eyes to him, that I tried yet in vain to mouth the changeling spell. And then my senses seemed to me somehow changed, so that I stopped struggling. At once I felt his face upon my own, and I went still with shock, for I was no longer alone in the way that I had always been alone.

This human had entered my mind!

 _Yesss_... he said without speaking, as he pulled back a little, his hands upon my arms, his eyes meeting my own through the darkness. _Yesss_... I heard in my mind, and knew that he also heard within me my own heart’s cry of silent denial. He smiled then, a callous smile of savored certainty, and I saw that he sought this shared understanding of who we each were, of what parts we were each to play. For I knew then what he was, knew what he would make of me. _Yesss_... I heard again within my mind, and his eyes spoke as well, holding mine with the desire and the assurance of one who grasped my life and my destiny, who would now claim them as his own.

I felt myself and my mind so still, and knowing what he was did I then look long upon him; a human man of middle years, with only the abundant gray of his long hair to show his true age, and the strange silver-blue of his eyes to reveal his true nature. Eyes that were almost shimmering, yet with a deep radiance, as from an unseen source of power. _Monster_... I hissed in my mind, struggling to make even so small response, helpless in the compelling bondage he made from within me. Thus did I give to him but one word of his own tongue, formed as silent venom: the G’ulach word for predator which eats of its own kind.

His face changed, though he still smiled. A knowing smile, as one of kinship; a predator admiring his catch. And then he touched me inside, and I felt so small the place of my own control, breaking; felt the inward collapse of my defenses as he touched them one by one. Defenses made against an outward assault, now tasted, plumbed; a catch released, an intimacy felled as he knew and released each one. And I could not answer, though I felt my power, the strength in craft from a lifetime of discipline undiminished within me, held still under his being as I lay beneath him, as he made use of all that was protected in me to undo that which I had built to protect it.

I held within to my growing rage, and below it the cold fear, felt them run unchecked, for he did not deny them, but watched and felt my reactions to him, waiting. I sensed his great pleasure as I again closed my eyes to him, as I tried in vain to shut him out, grasping inside for some little way to make this not so. To be home again, to wake from a bad dream...

 _Mother_.....! In my mind I still called out to her. I was without her; mother and home were far away.

Then with my senses did I turn away, reaching out into the night, seeking primitive escape; a way to leave this moment as one that had never begun. So clear the sound of wind in the trees above me... so insistent the fragrance of night. I could hear myself, and found that I was quietly sobbing, felt the pain that filled my hands from so tightly grasping at my skirts. I looked into myself, and saw that my own mind had become to me a vast and barren place, dark, an expanse of cold horror. I felt my reality undone from within me, for I wanted it not. Must I pay this price, this, for simple foolishness? That my people had warned me, that my mother and father had begged of me, do not travel alone... how will you always be protected? But I who had never known such danger had thought myself safe if I traveled and slept well cloaked. Who would think that such a one could find me, could encircle me with his will? Such a one... so strong, and made stronger by many.

For this one did not simply trap a woman for slave or sport. He had divined my presence, had sought me, a Faery woman, had used the G’ulach, the elemental magic of the hunter tribes to track and to capture me. He was fallen, an outcast of the G’ulach who had survived the banishment and lived now through the men he controlled, as now he would control me. He who entered my self-soul would now tie it to his own, would bind me to him, that our fates would be irrevocably intertwined, that he might use me to make of himself more, and stronger in the power which he made of his own life.

I felt him there, his touch inside of me still, an unmoving presence. Again I opened my eyes and found his waiting. His eyes for mine... cruel, yet sad eyes, though he was smiling. And still did he smile, even as with my own eyes I did plead with him, though I knew that this must be futile.

But then his face had become serious, his manner relaxed. He seemed to prepare himself, and for a moment I could almost feel in him a wavering, yet also a deep savoring of brief regret, as though he both relished and resigned himself to his role as thief and destroyer of my freedom and potential, so precious and beautiful. And then I felt it begin within him, the power rising, and I saw the change in his eyes; as he knew to me my deep loss, and the passing of many things from my life, but found also a deepening pleasure in taking these from me, a swelling exhilaration in his power to do so.

Then his eyes were his own, and I felt his passion made still and inward. He looked down upon me with a joyless, almost vacant purpose, as one commanding a moment sought for so long that the doing required but a simple motion. As in a dream I heard him take breath, watched his lips move, his body terrible over mine, his voice an end and a beginning, so that I felt my soul wrench with a cruel and undeniable horror as he spoke over me the ancient words.

“G’ckoch en ch’a tahn...” For one soul will we ever take breath.

I tried to speak, to claim death as he claimed my soul. How I wanted death to follow as I felt the last of my strength draining out from me with a tormenting slowness that amplified the deep fear and emptiness it left behind.

He lifted me so easily then, passing my limp body down to waiting hands that took me and placed me upon the ground. Vaguely I sensed the circle of men stepping back into darkness, then his dark shape kneeling over me, his will still encircling my own. Again did he wait until I looked into his eyes, his own burning close with a fierce delight, his face near to mine in the darkening gloom. All signs of pity or reluctance were gone from him as he watched me, taunting me with his smile and his power over me as yet he watched me, his silhouette now black against blackest night, waiting. Why did he yet wait?

The cold horror in my belly had grown huge, a spreading black ink-cloud of deepest despair, overwhelming my sense of time and self. I tried yet in vain to mouth the trance-evoking phrase, and he bent near to me as though to listen, mocking. He played at silencing me with his lips, in his eyes a black and false tenderness, mirroring to me my impending collapse. Slipping down, away from him, I closed my eyes to him once more, felt my face and hair wet with tears, and I knew it well, that there was no escape.

At once I felt the remains of my struggle fall away from me, felt myself sink into an undeniable surrender.

He spoke then, filling the night with the accursed words, so that I felt him covering my entire being with his own, so that his voice seemed right at my ear, though he yet knelt over me. And as he spoke the claiming word, then his voice chanting softly, the guttural sounds of G’ulach sounding louder and yet ever more distant, I felt the beginning of the bonding spell joining us in trance, and a marriage of intimacy and horror that would not end, would never end, though I tried with each breath to believe that he would finish... Goddess, he must finish, and release me to my inner misery.

When he was done, he stood and claimed me loud, then turned to drop his raised arms, closing the spell. When he was done, I felt a collapse in my being like huge doors closing on horizons now past; the sound booming forth, down into the darkness before me as echoes plumbing the depths of a single tunnel, leading unknown into darkest future. When he was done, we were bound in a way that could never be undone, a bond that would forever change who I was, whether I remained his, or found a way to escape him.

At last I felt myself slip into blackest unconscious.

 

 

I heard again the sweet sounds of the river before me, saw again the dark water, and shuddered in the night air, remembering such things. I stood now cloaked and still beside the river Elluuin of Ellswood, where began the rolling descent of the grasslands beyond, and the wind rushing away and unrestrained into a quiet vastness. I listened... hearing now and again the distant movements of his horses, grazing in darkness on the other side of the river, held there by his art and his will. And I waited, knowing that he was near, that I must soon face what must be faced.

I gazed for a time at the eastern sky, awaiting the moon. The night was old, and then the moon just rising; the waning crescent that allowed, but did not seek, so that I made my devotion, even as I remembered...

Horror and misery, and the misery that followed. That he brought me here, to his home in Ellswood, to this his circle. That he made me suffer, changed me, used me to further his art and purpose. One month had passed so, then two, until at last I found the chance to escape him. Alone and unseen, so swiftly had I made the cloak about myself, then set out at once for home. I had escaped him, though I knew now that he planned it so. He had looked away, had opened the little way to me, that I pushed through, and away.

I had not slipped from under his hold on me. He let me go.

He let me go.

How well I remembered the day when my losses were truly mine. When I knew that my life was his, as his life must be my own. At the place and the hour which he made for me, though we shared it not.

I found myself stopped at the west bank of the great river Annuin, gazing east across the gently rising grasslands beyond to glimpse the distant peaks of Faerfire rising sweet upon the horizon in the evening light. I who had set out well cloaked, ready to battle a great show of force as he threw all of his power at revealing and recapturing me. But the only magic I was to encounter, the only obstacle between myself and the crossing of the great river to the unchecked ascent of the lands beyond was a wispy little thread of spell with place woven into each link.

A containing spell, made only for me, already set and awaiting my escape.

I had underestimated my enemy.From the moment I was released from his circle and had woven about myself the cloak, I had thought myself lost to him, beyond his control. Once before had he found one who traveled cloaked, but only through the patience of many days’ work, tracking one who was unaware of pursuit. Never again would he by his own skill overcome mine in this way.

The containing spell was a simple, yet subtle spell. It gave no control, and could only reveal that which passed away from the maker. It did not seek to overcome or to undo power but was built instead upon weakness. It was easily loosened, and this was the power of the thing, for to overcome it was to reveal myself to him. Once revealed, I could not hide from him long enough to weave again the cloak. The moment I was no longer hidden, he would see me, would use the bond to hold me, to draw me back to him.

The most powerful magic was of no avail. My home and my freedom were forever lost to me.

I wept. I threw myself on the ground, tore at my hair, my clothes. My home, my home, that I had never left thee... Oh Faerfire, sweet Faerfire...

I was silent after a time. I stared up into the darkening sky, and my mouth hung open and slack. I cared not that my face was filthy with dirt and tears. Slowly I became aware that the sun had set, that I was damp and chilled from the cool of the nearby water and the growing darkness.

When at last I stood and looked around myself at a strange world made forever different by the loss of home, I saw across the flat expanse of black water, strangely lit and stark against the dark surface, a heron standing blue and still at the river's edge in the last light of day. And as I looked up, the sun which was already gone behind me was still making of the fabled peaks of Faerfire a glowing display of captured fire, touching there upon the snowy peaks of my beloved home, where I might look but might never return again.

From that day at the great river was my homeland lost to me. For I knew then that upon the other rivers and mountain passes were placed the same spell. From the rocky heights of the Mountains Pentach to their joining of the great river Annuin flowing freely at my feet, I could go no further than the Felren to the north or the Shalaren to the south. Nor could I ascend the great cliffs Ruedcarn, rising high above Ellswood to block my passage into the western lands. I could not by magic ascend the cliffs, nor cross the Shalaren for the western pass, and remain yet undetected.

I had by now mapped the depths of grief for this loss of home, and of my freedom. With him or without him, I was his.

I spent the days after my escape in endless hiding from his searches, dark and grief filled days made in hiding from his men, always moving that they might not divine my location and work to surround me, to overcome my defenses. His men came often, riding out in pairs, the low monotone of their search spells alternating with the loud recalling of the bond. Always did I watch them, carefully cloaked and hidden from their spells, ever vigilant that I be not surprised again.

But the one who sought me did not come. He remained at his circle in Ellswood, as though to say, my life here will be yours. He was patient, letting time wear me down and attest to the bond. He knew that I was trapped, that I must continually work at not being found, that I lived this way hour after hour, day after day. As I knew that he did not merely use his time in waiting, as I expended mine in hiding. The energy he spent in reaching out for me he focused through his knowing of me and of the bond, strengthening his ties to me. His power was changing; he was extending the thick web of connections forged in the short time I was his own.

But these things were all past...

The crescent moon caressed the starlit sky, rising slowly in darkness. The time was come; I must make myself ready. I turned then away from the dark water, stepping away from the thick trees to stretch and soothe my tired muscles. I listened, and waited, hearing the distant voices of men chanting their power and place in his world.

And feeling the time of my decision so close upon me, I found then my thoughts made upon the others who lived here, sleeping in silence around me, these who lived, and made lives of their own. For it was here that there lived a people who might accept him, even one such as he.

All around me a people slept, scattered near and far through the great forest. The people of Ellswood were nomadic and built no permanent shelter. Most were of the Aer, who had left and returned to this place many times, for many generations. Others were outcasts or traders come from the valley towns of Waerland or beyond, for the Aerbryn were tolerant of others and their customs; as ever-travelers did they wish only the same for themselves.

But he was not of the Aer, nor their accepted kin, though he lived here, almost among them, yet ever apart. The years and the generations had passed and yet did he live, of one age and no older, as did those men who served him. And those of the Aer, who knew who and what he was, did keep themselves apart from him and from his men, though they might make trade with him, and share words brought from other lands.

And so it was here, and for many years he had lived; of darkness an outcast, of self sovereign and openly made. Here upon the mountain borne waters of the river Elluuin, beneath the green clad children of the forest Ellswood, all and ever sacred to the moon goddess and her own. And so it was here, in this thickly wooded area between the larger encampment and a little clearing near to the river which held his own that I had come nine days before to make my own little camp, concealed by my art and known only to me.

I had returned to him, though he knew it not.

Silence. The chanting had stopped. I turned my head, listening. The forest seemed empty and still but for the gentle murmuring of the river, calling as it swept here and there over the many rocks which made of its surface a delicate weaving of dark movement and still surface, now blessed and subtle with moonshine. But as I listened and waited, there came to me the sounds of newly free voices, then loud cursing and laughter floating over to me through the tall trees, taking the night silence.

He was there... the dark one who sought ever to retake me, who moments before had stood at the fire, quietly chanting with his men the closing of ritual.

The time had come. I moved deeper into the trees, seeking best vantage from which to view his circle, to find my way to it. Sparks rose into the night as someone stirred at the dwindling fire. Gazing through the darkness, I caught sight here and there of flowing shapes walking through the clearing and into the trees on the other side. A chill went through me as I watched, and made ready, as some of these men now appeared alone and silent, walking past the fire and into the trees on this side of the clearing, suddenly disappearing into the darkness of their tents. And as I watched, I saw that other men stopped at the fire, rejoining those who now sat together, sharing conversation and occasional laughter.

Glancing at the river, carefully I gauged the distance between myself and his camp, marked there by the dwindling light of the fire visible through the trees. For it was to this light that I now must go; slowly, carefully, in this less traveled area of thick trees that grew near to the river’s bank. Now would I make my way to the very heart of his circle, to sit cloaked beside it, to watch and to wait for the moment to make the spell.

Finding my courage, I chose well my path near to the water's edge, and moved slowly down river, slipping quietly around and past each tree. I moved steadily along the river’s bank, stopping now and again to rest and to strengthen the spells which made the cloak and kept my presence from him.

The night breezes had quieted, and the slivered moon was high enough now to cast slight scatterings of translucent silver through the trees. One of his men had come away to sit alone beside the moving water, moonlit smoke rising from the outline of his shaggy head, then the sound of rocks tumbling into the water from his settling movements. I crept past him, step by step; focused, silent and invisible.

Watching carefully the area near the fire as I moved closer, I began to make out the murmur of lowered voices, tired voices that soon would know sleep. The last of the fire's bright coals now fed a few small but lively flames, and I came almost to the edge of the clearing before I saw them all there in the low light. Just barely could I make them out: several men sitting in a semicircle, faintly lit by the warm glow of the low burning fire, their bodies outlined in darkness.

I stopped. Their fire was nearer to this edge of the small clearing. To my right, their dark tents stood as though empty, shifting subtly in the breeze. Beyond was my own camp, packed and ready, with my few belongings safely cloaked and visible only to me. I stood in darkness, invisible, dressed as a human in these rough clothes of a wandering Aer woman, taken as she slept peaceful in the crescent arms of this night’s dreaming.

I moved closer still, looking upon each of them until I found him there, sitting amongst them. And I felt the shiver that came to me as I knew him... his dark outline, the manner of his body, the glow of the firelight playing upon his face. For my knowing was made from inside my soul; made for this one, who was made to darkness.

I watched only him as I crept forward, concentrating on the cloak that it allowed each step as only silence, feeling within myself the strength of many days’ preparation. Choosing near a place where the trees were thickest, I stood at last at the fire I had watched these many days. Finding here this place to stand, to watch, to rest and to wait, I made myself very still, and looked upon him still.

He sat as though alone, wedded to his thoughts, gazing into the fire as his men talked quietly around him. He was silent, and to himself, and I knew that he had already begun, that he made now inside himself the connections which renewed his hidden power in this place. And as I looked upon him, upon his face barely touched by the glow of the dying fire, his face that meant darkness to me in all ways, I felt within myself a hollowing revulsion, a fettering cold… even after these nine days of living again at his circle, and of preparing myself only for this night and this hour.

Standing as one with the trees, my breath as of the wind, and for moments which became many did I wait, as one by one the men stood and walked slowly into the darkness of the trees, their receding footsteps fading into the deep forest alive and still around us. We were alone then, but for the quiet and the darkness, joined with us in awaiting the dawn.

I gazed then close upon him through the low and branching trees, and he seemed so very near, enough almost to touch, to feel well his _way_ and his presence leading away from this world, down into darkness. I turned subtly to him, that he seemed closer still, though I wanted him not, and felt my fear anew. _Goddess_ , I stood now close enough to hear his breath, to remember well his body and his touch, so hated and familiar. Still did I keep to this place, where I could see his face clearly and be yet hidden with the dropping of the cloak.

I waited, and made myself ready. The spell must be very strong, and finished in a moment's breathing. There must be no edges or remnants of the magic wrought to achieve my new shape and place in the world. I must be very near to him when the spell was made, to choose that moment when his power was least focused, lest the subtle weaving alert him immediately to my magic and my purpose. And I must make the change when he was awake; for in the world of dreams, in which all beings possess the other-sight, all is made visible if the inner eye is drawn to it. In sleep would he immediately _see_ me the moment I made the great magic that wrought a complete a transformation of self.

I had been preparing for this moment since I had returned to Ellswood. On this night was I ready, this night of the ninth day. I had sat up with the night, as they did. I awaited the dawn, as he did. As he had made again with his men the rituals that made of them his own, and his strength in them renewed. As he prepared now for the making of his own ritual, standing in the place between the night and the dawn, when the light of sun first touched upon darkness, but had not yet veiled the heavens. Chanting under his breath, eyes closed, my name on his lips would he then invoke the bond between us; as he traced the edge of the circle within his mind, aligning and grounding his intentions in this, his place of power.

All as he had done when I and my freedom were his alone, and I had sat beside him in all things.

At last he looked up at the sky, and a deep thrill went through me as he stood, looking up at the stars, then down into the fire which was now deep coals, his face beyond the light made by the little fingers of flame which yet lived, reaching from the depths of the fire, glowing under darkness. He held out his hands, and I held my breath, listening, my intention one with my cloak subtly fashioned, no edges, let naught be hidden, yet naught revealed. And when I breathed again, my breath was as one with the night wind, and the gentle whispering of the trees.

I knew then that he closed his eyes, knew the words that he now gave breath. I could almost see his lips move, could only just hear the low murmur of his chanting. I felt in my own body the connections he made to the fire and to the earth, to the water and to the subtle sky that presaged the dawn and the coming day. And I felt so near to me that familiar power that was his, and a growing strength, as he made of his life and this day intention rooted in ritual, saying each link as he renewed the circle of place, of this place and of his being. I listened, and I remembered when last I had sat so close beside him, had listened to this private chanting, felt his magic draw from me, binding me to him.

And I shuddered, watching with fascination and revulsion as he renewed the bond between us as a part of this inner ritual. I felt in my body the coldness, a measured tension as I waited, as I listened to his voice, the voice that I knew, that had called my soul. And I saw it in him, the little signs of completion, felt around me the little changes in the air and in the earth, of night’s grasp loosened, about to fall from the land.

The immeasurable darkness beyond the infinite heavens had only just shaded in the east to a subtle light when he closed his hands, still looking into the fire as he let them drop, that they fell to his sides.

I felt the beating of my heart, felt every part of myself alert and of one purpose, ready. I caught the blue of his eyes as he raised them to the lands across the river, to the rolling grasslands that fell steadily away into the darkened vale below. He stood so for a moment, as though to think upon the one who yet evaded him there. Then at last he sat down, reaching to unclasp his boots, so that I willed myself to final preparation. And as he leaned back to look up at the withdrawing heavens, now becoming veiled with the golden light of dawn, I thought alone and to myself: Every day with you here... as I sat watching you, as I decided my course and prepared for the doing... your long arm has searched everywhere to find me. Everywhere, but here, with you.

He sat as one alone, quietly preparing for sleep, watching as the last of the fire turned white and veiled with ash. Now was the moment come when he approached the inner world of sleep, some ways yet from the world of dreams. I fingered the talisman at my breast, making the last preparations for the spell. The moment had come. I could make the change whenever I wished.

We waited there, he and I. I felt my life so small, narrowed to this one place, this one decision and purpose: to express the bond rather than fight it. To take it a yoke from my neck, there made as a rein in my hand. That I felt such lack of choice rendered caution irrelevant, strengthening me. My life turned on this moment. How would it now be?

A fish jumped in the river below. A nearby bird tested its song. The growing light of day reached upward across a changing sky. Birds flew overhead, welcoming the approaching sun. I chanted the day’s devotions in my mind.

The eastern sky flared briefly with a dying crimson that became slowly golden, and still did I wait, sensing in him the certain release as he relaxed, readying for sleep. I began the ritual changes in my silent breathing that closed my inner circle, that which would contain, then that which triggered the rising power that was my own, and shaped for this moment. The cloak loosened around me as the sun crested the ridge, finding the red cliffs behind him. Carefully I watched his face, clearly visible now in the growing light. Standing these last few moments as I had ever been, then inhale deeply, exhale slowly... I sent forth the trigger words, silently, like leaves floating out onto the morning breeze.

In an instant I became other. Barefoot and dressed as a peasant woman, a human woman; no signs of my identity or heritage now visible, nor made manifest by any but the most formidable magic. Behind me, the tiny cloakspell which hid my waiting pack of belongings was slowly fading. And though I had woven a remainder of my own cloakspell to linger about me in this moment, it must disappear like a breath when I moved from this spot.

I stood so near to him, looking at him through what had seemed so many leaves, and now seemed so few, my body so still as I waited, as I willed myself to breathe. Soon would he stand and walk away from me, leaving this moment at the cold fire circle. I had but to wait for my chance to turn away from him, to leave him behind me forever. To gather my belongings, and seek the secluded way I had found through the thick woods, to the path, to the distant vale, to the sweet forest valley at the end of the wood.

I watched in frozen fascination as he ran his hands through his hair, then leaned forward to loosen his boots. He stood, and I felt a thrill go through me, powerful in this new human body. In the light of day, my enemy stood but a few feet from me. I felt an animal place inside me rise up, as a deer scenting fire. Every nerve came to life, screaming, _Run...! RUN...!!!_ It was all I could do to stand, breathing silently, as he turned to walk past me towards his tent.

And in that moment I felt that I must face him, must walk into the fire of my renounced destruction, or be forever ruled by my fear of it... somehow and forever robbed by loss of passing choice that I found only in this moment. For I suddenly saw that I was about to leave an undiscovered path behind me forever; this loss a deficit to be lived out, as sentence, for the rest of my years.

I felt myself move, my feet lifting now towards him. I pushed forward through the trees, the thrill of fear and triumph rising in me as I stepped out into the clearing in the growing light. And I saw his sharpening gaze turn to focus upon me, a human woman, now visible before him, watched his face as he took full measure of me, his eyes showing calm surprise, a certain interest, then so clearly there in that shocking blue... a controlled anticipation of the game.

The chase was begun.


	2. Chapter 2

He fixed his eyes upon mine. Eyes that hid deepest fire beneath the cold blue of still water, shimmering. For a moment we stood there, eye upon eye.

“Greetings...” His soft voice startled me. Never had he spoken to me without knowing me, but he did so now. He glanced past me to see that I was alone, wondering that he had not sensed me, had not known my coming. “A bold approach...” he added when no other appeared, his eyes returning to mine. He smiled, feigning discomfort in surprise, a sovereign pleasure in a superior strength unconcealed beneath this mock weakness. He stood much as he had before I appeared, studying me with the relaxed fascination, the savored anticipation of the hunter confident of his catch.

I felt it, and wanted it not, though in this moment was I almost grateful for it; this strange partition in myself rendering all that I had once been now inaccessible, except as private and concealed memory. The changeling spell had rendered me as a human, my strong feelings now wild, unchecked by the power I was born to and had known all of my years.

Why startled that a human had entered my mind, yet the changeling spell hides my inner memories?

“Greetings,” I heard myself speak, though the voice was not my own. I steadied myself. Still did we stand, eye upon eye. Stepping forward, I offered my hand in the Aerbryn custom. “I am Tisandara.” He smiled with curiosity and open pleasure. Few women would approach him thus, and he was unaccustomed to such openness. I knew that my spirit and courage were immediately attractive to him, to one who used women, and delighted in taking such gifts from them.

“I am called Bënawen,“ he answered, offering his G’ulachen name. I knew that he would never speak aloud his true name. Sliding his hand across mine, looking into my eyes, he still did not know me. The spell had passed this most difficult test. I felt inside this little warmth of pride for my craft quickly swallowed by the cold depths of an infinite loss.

I looked away, turning to survey the clearing and his tents as though for the first time.

“I am searching for the circle of Breannyn,” I began. “Do you know of them?”

He did not respond, but stood silent, watching me closely, as though to decide his course. I waited, letting the silence stand between us until he would make answer. Finally he spoke, quietly, as though for his ears only.

“I do not know you....” His voice was low, yet expansive, as with private meaning. It was as much query as statement, and I knew that he still wondered at my lack of fear, for to look upon him was to see his darkness, and to know danger. I did not respond, my face unchanged as I kept my eyes to his, until he gestured with a hand, and his voice again changed as he spoke more loudly: “And what of your circle?”

Once more I surveyed the little clearing, and the lay of his tents.

“I seek a place by the river...” I answered. Aerbryn women did sometimes live in a separate camp; their status did not depend upon that of a man. He moved but slightly, seeking and then holding again my gaze. His eyes... He smiled, though his face was little changed, and a chill went through me as I felt that my fear was completely gone. I could not feel his touch, yet recognized his influence.

I turned to look back through the trees, as though to measure the closeness of his tents.

He followed my gaze, did not hesitate. “We are moving our tents this morning...” he offered, gesturing toward the trees on the other side of the clearing. “...closer to the river.” I knew that he regularly moved his tents, as the G’ulach often did, that his men would know place, and not their making of it, as home.

“I offer thanks for your kindness,” I heard myself answer. I made the hand sign for agreement, then turned and began to walk slowly back to my belongings. And so suddenly was my human body overfull with an unknown level of raw terror and tension, that I must force myself to walk slowly away from him and into the trees.

When I was apart from him, I felt tears as I hurried back to my hidden camp. What had I done? I felt myself in his web, that he could draw me to him at any time, that I had no recourse. No, this was my choice, though I knew not why. I would stay here. I would finish what was between us, accept whatever conclusion the bond would now weave between us. I did not understand this sudden change in my desire, but I felt deeply some advantage that I had yet to discover, a way to reclaim my life, even as I felt myself again within his control.

How strange that I was now but a diversion to him... as were those he might toy with before he destroyed them, suddenly extinguished by his use. Would he guess? Might he have guessed already? No. It would never come to him, such a choice. To diminish myself, and so fully... to claim only that which was purely my own. He would never consider such a path.

I made a casual route back to my nearby camp, so carefully swept clean of my previous energy and presence, then immediately returned with my tent bundle. I chose a place within sight of his tents to set up my own, then stayed inside, eating cold meat and resting until his men awoke in the early afternoon, coming out from their tents to take their meal. Shortly after did they take down their camp, moving to the other side of the clearing, deep in the trees. All of the tents, but for one. His own remained here, on this side of the clearing, near to my own.

~ . . . ~

So it was, that I had returned to him, our fates still deeply intertwined. Always, until death would it be so. For no matter how or where I lived would it always be in answer to him and his life. But I had come now to answer this challenge. To answer him and his life, but to still have my own. I had decided my own fate, chosen a new life to make as my own.

Thus would it be: I would live in the shape of a woman, human like himself. I had thought to live close by, in the nearest village, where he would least expect me to be, to live as he least expected me to live: openly the settled and simple life of a human. Such a turn in the life of one whom he had bound to himself, one who could only hide from or be taken by him, whom he sought only with confidence... such a life would make strong answer, a powerful rejoinder that would last a lifetime.

I sought in the unprotected openness of this new life an answer to his unbreakable power to retake me. I had given up what power I still possessed against him. I would fight him no more, hide from him no longer.

He would not think to look for me as a human, I knew. Even as I approached him so, by magic changed, he knew me not. But now was I left with no power to hide myself from him, or resist his efforts to break me should he somehow learn my true identity. I was as vulnerable to him as any simple human, for once I had wrought the remaking spell, and I had no longer the power to undo it unassisted.

I knew it well, that a human woman who fell into his hands had much to fear in him. Far worse then to me and my kind the most horrible life of possession; my own power used to extend his life and power far beyond that which he had wrought through his G’ckoch. If I were retaken, let it be as a human, one who could only be broken, who could only die. I would not submit to the spirit death. I would not live so, for hundreds of years... as he slowly drained me of all that I was.

And yet, I would pay such a very dear price for this life, my own, for I would live no longer as a woman of the Faer. I, who had lost my homeland; a grievous loss. How much deeper this, to give up my power and ancestry... even my true self? I felt the harrowing ache in my heart as I thought on these things. Later... later I would grieve. But, now must I somehow take back my life, and make of it something that was mine. I had made this decision, and so it would be. I would focus on the power of our connection, and use it to bind him to me as I chose. For did not the bond go both ways?

I had returned to him, for our fates were intertwined. Always, until death would it be so. No matter how or where I lived would it always be in answer to him and his life. But I was come now to answer this challenge, to answer the bond. To answer him and his life, but to still have my own. I had decided my own fate, chosen a new life to make as my own.

Thus would it be: I would assume the shape of a woman, human like himself, and live close by. In the forest of Ellswood, where he would least expect me to be, I would live as he least expected me to live: openly the settled and simple life of a human. Such a turn in the life of one whom he had bound to himself, one who could only hide from or be taken by him, whom he sought only with confidence ~ such a life would be my answer, a powerful rejoinder that would last a lifetime. And I would make of the unprotected openness of this new life an answer to his unbreakable power to retake me. I would give up what power I still possessed against him. I would fight him no more, hide from him no longer.

He would not think to look for me as a human, I knew. But I would be left with no power to hide from him, or resist his efforts to retake me. I would be as vulnerable to him as any simple human, for once I had wrought the remaking spell, I would not have the power to undo it unassisted.

I almost wavered as I looked at him, waiting. For I knew it well, that a human woman who fell into his hands had much to fear in him. I did not think on this, as though it would not be, though I could not know for sure. This I did know: far worse to me and my kind the most horrible life of possession, for he would use all that I was to extend his life and power far beyond that which he had wrought through his G’ckoch. If I were retaken, let it be as a human, one who could only be broken, who could only die. I would not submit to the spiritual death, would not be used by him again, to live so for many hundreds of years as he slowly drained me of all that I was.

And yet, I would pay such a very dear price for this life, my own, for I would live no longer as a woman of the Faer. I, who had lost my homeland; a grievous loss. How much deeper this, to give up my power and ancestry... even my true self? I felt the harrowing ache in my heart as I thought on these things. But, now must I somehow take back my life, and make of it my own. I had made this decision, and so it would be. I would focus on the power of our connection, and use it to bind him to me as I chose. For did not the bond go both ways?

I turned my face from him, quieting once more these thought while so near to him.

Evening came, and the sun was slipping away when two more of his men returned to him, crossing the river on horseback. They brought supplies, I knew, but no news of the one called Yinnae.

He came out to them, and they received his touch, kneeling. They stood at his side, then followed him down to the river. I watched from inside my tent as he stood at the sandy bank, hands out, palms down. I pictured his eyes closed, his lips just moving as he mouthed the search spell. The two men sat on their haunches behind him, hardly moving. He sprinkled something into the water, then quickly knelt, carefully watching the water at his feet.

He stood again, and seemed deep in thought. The river showed nothing, I knew. All of my trails had grown cold in the days since I had inhabited the lands between Ellswood and the great river Annuin, since I had moved from grassland to wooded copse to hilly vantage in random circles, ever watching his men, who ever searched for me.

He looked up at the sky, his right hand slipping slowly over the back of his neck, then falling to his side. He stood there for some time. At last did he turn and walk up from the water, his men rising to follow. He followed the far edge of the clearing, where smoke rose beyond, marking the men’s camp. He turned, and they followed him into the trees. As I watched him, I felt his energy barely touch me, sliding gently past me, though his back was to me. He touched me from afar, revealed his knowing to me as he disappeared into the trees. A subtle toying for one who might take me at any time.

My supplies were few, and I had nothing to trade the Aerbryn for meat. But I had saved food for two days’ journey, and for the first time since my escape did I build a fire, and there openly cook and eat my food. After my meal, I lay in my tent and waited for sleep. For the first time since I left Ellswood I could sleep through the night, if I chose. Sleep, if I could, during the late night and early morning rituals of the G’ckoch, and of its maker.

But sleep did not come easily. I felt keenly the strangeness and steady ambivalence of my new form. Below the loss lay the deeper grief, always awaiting the quiet moment when I might remember my true form, and all that I had lost. As I lay in my tent, grateful for the nearness and familiarity of my few belongings, I thought upon my decision to return to Ellswood, and remembered a growing feeling that coming here, returning to him, would somehow bring me to an answer and a way through. All of the preparations and decisions that led up to this day... all for an outcome I had not foreseen, and had chosen on impulse.

I felt it still, this deep sense of mystery for the moment when I had revealed myself to him. The inner surge of feeling, the growing realization that I must face him, and the sensation of conquering deepest fear as I walked into view. It seemed that an unknown part of me, awaiting this day, came suddenly forward with an urgency and a wisdom I trusted, but did not yet understand.

As I found at last the beginnings of sleep, I felt in my heart that the answer to his hold on me, the key to the rest of my life, lay here with him, and in this course.

~ . . . ~

I dreamed that I was home. The mountains of Faerland rose all around me, so that I breathed again of the cool mountain air, scented of the spring. I felt young again, from the days before I had followed my wanderlust down into the grasslands of the Waer. And in my dream, I was human. I could not remember how or why, but it seemed not strange to me at all.

As I walked out from my familiar cottage, I turned to view a strange lodging next to my own, and saw that a human man lived there. As I came nearer, I saw other men with him, though they did not yet see me. And my heart was cold with fear, for I knew of this man. He was evil, and meant danger. He sought the power of women, to bring them under his control, use them for his own purpose. Sometimes he released them, but many had he killed. That such a man could live openly in the Faer was impossible, but in a dream.

I knew that my freedom and perhaps my life depended upon remaining undetected, and yet I stood there still. Without decision to do so, I felt myself walk slowly towards his house, up the path, up the steps and through the open door. I felt with each step more powerful and more alive. I felt that I walked through fire, conquered the deepest fear of death as I entered the house. And when he turned to look at me, I saw the silver-blue eyes, the long gray hair...

When I left his house, he did not stop me. And when I returned to my own, I did not leave. Days passed and we were all as friends, visiting each other and finding amusement together. Always I felt him watching me as I sunned on the porch, worked in the garden, walked barefoot to sit in the summer grass surrounding my cottage.

But the day came when I sought escape, for he had gained control of me, and I could not easily leave. I obtained a horse, and set out for the pass down to the Waer. And though I had lived in Faerland these many years, none of the roads were familiar to me. I was lost. I sought directions from a passerby which made sense only until I set out again.

I grew frantic, my mind growing weary and slow with anguish and fear. I felt I must recognize where I was, if only I could think clearly. No matter which direction I tried, the village seemed to be endless. I began to realize that everywhere I went, there were people who knew who I was, who would say to him wherever I might go. I could not escape, and I could not hide.

I stopped and stood beside my horse on the dusty road, then turned and sank onto the hard ground, staring at the earth at my feet. I knew that he would be coming for me. Perhaps it would go on as it had, if I did not again try to leave him. I knew not how soon, if ever, he would reveal his intentions for me. I felt myself defeated, that my life was now completely his own.

~ . . . ~

I awoke, sat up in the darkness of my tent. Wind in many trees, the smell of water... I remembered where I was, and what I was. I reached for my water sack, remembering the bittersweet dream of home, then opened my tent and looked out into the night. The night was old, for the moon had just risen, a bit of silver light that sought me through the trees. All seemed quiet for a time, but for the murmur of the river and the soft whisper of the wind in the trees. But as I listened, turning my ear to the direction of the men’s camp, I began to hear, very faint... chanting. I shivered. I could just make out the guttural sounds of G’ulach. He made now with his men the G’ckoch.

I was frightened. “I am afraid...” I whispered into the breeze, my voice so strangely human. I found that my thoughts were racing, anticipating his nearness. He will come... after he has made words with each of his men, receiving again their vow. Just before the dawn will he leave his men, and return here, to his own tent and his own fire, the separate fire that he now keeps. There will he stand, within site of my tent, and make his own dark ritual...

My heart was pounding. Bending forward, I pushed through my tent flaps and looked around towards his tent. I expected to see nothing, to reassure myself. I tensed, my breath caught. A fire already burned low before his tent, and the faint glow of lamplight spilled from within. Through a carelessly tied door flap I could see movement inside.

He was there! But this was rare... So rarely did his men make the G’ckoch without him. And I knew well that he never used lamp or candlelight to light his tent. I had lived his life, always beside him in darkness, tied by my bond with him in the many weavings of his spells; he who never needed light, and smiled at the candles and oil lamps of unchanged humans. But there was now a lighted lamp in his tent, and it was there for me. It must be so, to signal his presence, to draw my awareness.

But why did he not make with his men the G’ckoch? Why did he now keep his fire separate from theirs? Had he awakened me? Touched me as I slept? A rush of uncontrolled fear rushed through me, making of my stomach a place of noxious pain. Close after came a thick despair, clouding my mind. Prastlich... I cursed under my breath, grasping at my clothes. Oh, how I pitied humans, awash in such feelings, and with no abiding power through which to control and channel them. I closed my eyes, steeling myself for this new challenge. To face again my adversary in such a state... I could almost smile.

But as I looked down, I felt myself start back, for I saw next to me on the ground that which I could not have been so slow to notice, were I still of my true form. No... Never could it have been left there without my knowledge, were I still possessed of my true art and power. There, in the earth in front of my tent was drawn his device, the circle divided into three. And in the middle lay a blue crinnoua shell, from the faraway southern sea. So slowly I bent forward in the darkness to look at it, so small, and so very blue.

To the Aerbryn, and the other humans of the Waer and beyond, shells were used as currency, and might be offered or left so as a gift. But to the G’ulach, a blue crinnoua shell was more: it symbolized humans, or one who was human. For the color of the rare crinnoua matched that which was uniquely human: eyes of blue. As a Faery, I had had green eyes. Some faeries had violet eyes, and some golden-gray. The lowlander Tannische had brown eyes, as did the highland Crenwyn, both of the same blood. Humans also had eyes of green or brown, but only humans might have eyes of blue; as were his, as were now my own. As now to this human I was drawn again, woven into his circle and into his designs.

I gazed at these things, remembering the desperation of my dream. I peered again around the edge of my tent, anxiously studying his own. It was still closed, and filled with light. I almost expected to see him standing in the growing moonlight, or walking towards me. I worked to calm myself as I looked again at the small shell, laying there on the earth beside me, earth that he had touched while I slept.

The moon shone through the higher treetops before I again found sleep, and slept dreamless for awhile on the banks of the Elluuin of Ellswood, beneath the moon-silvered boughs of a great wood’s many-leaved children.


	3. Chapter 3

I awoke again just before the dawn. Carefully I crept over his design and the faint flash of blue to seek the privacy of the thick trees behind my tent. When I returned, I stopped before the entrance of my tent, so cautiously peering around it towards his own.

And I saw him there, standing already in ritual, standing in that so familiar way at the dying coals of night’s end. Eyes closed, hands out and palms down, a slight breeze pulled at his pale-gray hair, the movement just visible in the faint moonlight. I imagined that I could almost hear his voice, chanting softly in the pre-dawn stillness. And for a moment, I did not think that I stood so, watching him with the so familiar mixture of horror and fascination.

And though the sky had not yet begun to grow light, he was suddenly finished, his fists tightening, his arms falling to his sides as he turned his face so slowly, calmly towards me... and on his gaze was I caught. I felt myself go still, heard his breath as though inside my body, felt him search through me, coming up through my body and laying open my being like a bloom suddenly made to flower, showing every inner petal. And I felt him going through me, shifting the leaves of my being, to search at the joinings and in the folds.

He found very little there, I knew. Less even than the mind of the most simple of humans, and far less than a soul unshielded by a subtle power or far-reaching magic, as was my own. For the remaking spell rendered all that I had been but an unseen structuring to what I was now, except as hidden memory. I was without the many lengths of living history that should be stored by this human body’s years of living.

He would guess from this that I had remade my past through magic bartered, obtained by one who made a new life from an old one barely salvaged. But he did not now seek this magic, or its maker. He sought in me only one thing, hidden or no: the wound on which to tie his own purpose, with which to bind me to his web. I knew that his dark interest in me was now greatly heightened, for he guessed that one so defended must have a very deep wound, one which affected my identity, and my entire being; a wound with which to control and consume every part of me. Dark irony, this, for it was he who had wounded me so, deeply, and not so long ago...

And then I braced myself, for I felt him all around me, felt him enter my mind.

Your name... he commanded, his voice moving as a measured force through my entire being, ringing, almost flat, demanding.

And so it began.

“Silence...” I spoke aloud, my voice carefully soft and unshaken. I used the G’ulach word, which also meant denial. Still did he answer in my mind.

One who has been remade... One who speaks G’ulach, and who stands upon courage... he mused, and I heard in his voice the pleasure of anticipation, tempered by a dark promise of retribution for my refusal. YOUR NAME... he again commanded, and I felt him pushing upon my will with a deeper power, testing me.

I offered nothing, and so the same answer, that I let the silence stand between us, waiting. I knew that he had no desire for weaker humans, those who were so easily controlled as to immediately surrender to him their true name. But my defiance made as so subtle answer was mocking, and did not engage or retreat, truly giving to him nothing.

He was also silent, so that some time had passed, until I had just begun to feel myself alone, had just noticed in myself the opening to fear of one who has perhaps made it through an ebbing danger.

SILENCE..... I heard again his voice, the sound in my mind somehow echoing and then swelling; so long, and then so loud that I felt myself assaulted, and then completely overcome with nausea and human fear. I began to shake, felt my knees giving way as I was swallowed up and lost in this inner barrage. I felt myself small, the ground of my life tilting, jerking, then falling away. And then I felt his touch at my side, as though he took a rib into his hand to hold me as I slipped.

Immediately he was deep inside of me, his touch upon the source of my terror, of my fear in this moment, blossoming from a still hidden history, my fear of suffering and of a drawn out death, of enslavement and use as torture. He searched these places, felt them well, knowing, then tasting each inmost place and the feeling of it, then bound them together with the knowing. Like an internal map of the path and flow of energy, with each connection laid in again with his own understanding, and all connected as one to the power he made of his own life, on a place he had made for control of me within his being.

When he was done, I found myself lying on my side on the cold ground, assaulted by a strange and shifting sideways world of wavy tree-shapes amidst shocks of blazing light. I closed my eyes tightly, waiting, praying wordlessly that the world might hold still again, clutching at my stomach. And still did I wait, focusing on the little place of relief that began where the sun touched and warmed my shoulder, slowly spreading down my back.

Ssssssssssssssss... I heard his breath close at my ear, but I dared not open my eyes, lest the nausea retake me. I still felt in myself the slipping, and the human fear a sloven hugeness that had threatened all meaning. And then he was so close, and touching these in me, gently, with the testing fingers of a child, loosening the last little handholds of my now fragile being. Immediately my inner world began to disintegrate, like ice breaking, then falling from a great height.

I felt myself undone, and in that moment, the cherished memory of my own made me forget myself.

Mother...! I called out in my mind, as I had as a child, as I often did when I needed the inner place that knew her. And then was I immediately overcome with a new and infinite terror, for my error seemed huge against the tiny patch of sanity I nursed within the field of pain that was my being.

I had called out, within my mind, where he now listened... in my native tongue.

I felt him arch back so slightly, clutching me, then bending into me, tasting my energy, sensing me through again, comparing me to the one I knew that he now remembered.

Yinnae... I heard in my mind, as he felt at the edges of my humanness, finding there the little places of my handiwork. With his soul he tasted of these inner places, and knew me.

“Yinnae.” He spoke aloud, knowing and wonder in his voice. “You have remade yourself.” I could hear his struggle for understanding. But I had pulled away from him now, surging with every part of my being, and suddenly heard issuing from myself loud and long the keening wail of my long denied sorrow, voiced as one word.

“Mother...!!” I cried aloud in my own tongue, my voice a harrowing cry of anguish pushing out from me on the deadened silence of morning, the hot pain pushing up and out of my body like a press of fire that would surely destroy me if I denied its release.

“Mother...!!!” The sound raged up from my belly, and I pushed to my feet, struggling to stand up, to face him with this rage, with the sure knowledge of my unyielding revenge. I staggered, turning wildly, then grasped at a tree to hold myself.

“Mother...!” I called out again, but I heard in my voice the hollowness of despair as I clung to the unmoving tree, sobbing. Oh, why had I followed this sudden and foolish course? Why had I not left this evil one with my true self, behind me forever? I cried, and cursed wildly, my breath heaving as I made tears in darkness, awaiting his touch, his final reclaiming of me, then simply waiting. Until I felt the last waves of my upwelling grief and anger draining out from my body, and I felt at last the desire to look once more upon the outer world. I focused upon my senses, felt my breath calming, the strength returning to my legs, and heard again the sweet bird song, savored the slight breeze on my skin and in my hair, cool upon my wet face.

Cautiously did I open my eyes, blinking in the morning sunlight, then slowly looking around myself at a world blessedly still. The air was noticeably cooler, and the light somehow changed. I looked about myself with awe, for my tent and all familiar landmarks were gone.

I stood now at a little clearing, gently sloping down from me upon steep mountains that rose above me to great heights. I saw that the clearing opened within a wide band of deciduous trees which followed the mountains like a light green ribbon into the distance on two sides, contrasting with the dark evergreens visible below and above it. Higher still the bare rock and snow of sharply rising peaks carried unapproachable heights into the clouds. As I looked all around myself, finding the morning sun, then following the land and sky on all sides, I found nothing around me that was familiar.

From the altitude and the steepness of the distant peaks, I guessed that I now stood on a highland slope of the Pentach, which was G’ulach. He had made the panaynn, the place word.

“Bënawen...” I spoke aloud his G’ulachen name, softly into the silent forest that surrounded me. There was no reply. I could not see him, or sense him near me. All was quiet but for the now and again song of distant birds.

I pushed away from the tree, turning. And then I was somehow walking, stepping through soft grasses, pulled by the sound and then the smell of water. Enamored I walked to it, stopping at the tiny stream moving sweetly beneath the thick grasses, splashing here and there over the rocks and into tiny pools as it made its way down the green and rocky hillside. I knelt, and cupping my hand, tasted of the healing water, then bent my face to it and drank, feeling it cleanse me of fear and pain as I breathed of the atmosphere around the moving water, alive with the infused air which lifts the spirit and clears the mind.

When at last I sat up, my body warmed by the sun, my mind opening in a regained clarity, I found him reclining above me on the hillside where he had not been before, his body long amidst the thick grass on the other side of the stream, the dappled light beneath the leafy trees shifting quietly over him in the slight breeze. And I did not move, but sat looking at him, blinking in the morning light as I listened to the gentle language of the falling water.

His eyes held me, his mouth soft, his manner relaxed and casual. He spoke my birth name, and I felt a little shock go through me, that he spoke again as one who knew me.

“Yes, Yinnae… I watched you drinking, watched you here, and again with me.” He spoke quietly, and with some affection for his homeland, and for me. And his smile softened as we looked into each other’s eyes, as we felt the many ways our knowing of each other had changed since we were last together. We who knew more of each other than of any other...

“Bëna...” I breathed as I slowly bent again to the entrancing water, my world a flowing crystalline darkness, cold, edged in a glowing green, a living sweetness made warm and fragrant by a golden light. And I drank from this world, tasted it with my tongue and with my breath, blinking with pleasure as I drank, as I felt the moist air rich upon my face, against my eyes, taken in with each breath. And when I was finished, sat up and brought again my eyes to his, I felt this water-world below me, smaller, yet still moving past me with an infinite resource, ever and completely free.

The silence was between us then, made within the soft song of bird and water in a shared moment of the true silence. We felt it given breath, that third thing created by two, into which the many... all that might now or might ever be said between us, would become the succession of one only... this, followed by the next, one upon another. And we sat together in this stillness, honoring the silent place between us, awaiting the shift from all possibility to the first moment actualized, and given form.

I heard the little change of breath that preceded his words, felt the shift before he began.

“What have you done, Yinnae?” he breathed, his voice low and even, yet full of feeling. “What have you made of yourself?”

And still was I silent, letting the silence linger, giving my new form, present and visible, to answer, as I listened to the water, flowing away, ever away. But my true answer was ready, mine, though by him made for me, that I awaited the moment. Finally I spoke, felt the circle closing, felt the tremendous energy which moved between us, that now went with my words.

“What have you done, Bënawen?” I made the regret sign with my hand, placing it upon my heart. “What have you made of yourself?”

I heard the water again before he spoke.

“I have made of myself more,” he answered, his voice soft. The implied words flew at me, for he spoke them not, but let them find me on their own. And then I felt him inside, felt him gently touch my sadness, the deep grief underneath my calm defiance, as he followed the unspoken words, and made their echo.

So much less... I heard in my mind as he mirrored to me my grief, gently held it up to me.

“I am free.” I said, listening to the water below me.

“You are mine, Yinnae...” he said, “...as I am yours.”

“No.” I felt my anger begin, contained and rising, now as breath released. “You are the predator, Bëna. You took me against my will, as prey. I cannot have you because I do not seek you. My heart is dead to you, Dark One.” I used the G’ulach word for the soul-dead, who has no outer light.

“There is that which you might take from me, as I have taken from you, Yinnae. But you have not thought to seek it.”

“Give to me but my freedom, for I do not want else of you.”

“I will give to you always and only that which you will let me take,” he answered, and I felt him stand upon his inner strength. I knew that he thought himself my superior in ruthless strength, and so my rightful master.

“You will not take from me again, Bëna,” I answered. I felt his fire begin, though it was carefully checked, and ebbed as quickly as I continued: “You can take me, but you cannot take from me. I am again my own.”

He let my words stand between us, and though he did not touch again my sadness, I knew that he still made of it an answer. Moments passed in silence, and still did I feel my grief alive in my being. When again he spoke, his voice was low and soft.

“This sadness, Yinnae. Let me have it.”

Unbidden I felt the sudden hope flower within me as he tempted me, as he pointed the way. Never did I expect him to offer me this. “Make now with me the arwaen, Yinnae. Say to me the release word... Make the gift.”

Though a deeper anguish awaited my denial, I did not think long before pushing this false hope away.

“No, Bëna. No.” I heard the firmness in my voice, and the deep sadness. Again he sat in silence, letting my denied feelings be as though the true and undeniable answer between us.

Never... I added in my mind, where he still touched me. I felt a crying place deep inside as I turned away from him, away from this only chance to ever be whole again. Without my people, lost to me, so far away... without those of my kind to remake me, he was the only one who could give back to me my true self. For the remaking spell could only be unmade by the gifting of self to another, to one who was capable of knowing all that I was, now and before, that they might then gift all to me in return.

He spoke slowly, evenly, sure of his words.

“Yinnae, we are wed in the bond. You are mine, as I am yours. I know that you know this, that this must always be so. Though you might escape me, still must you always return to me, and to our knowing of each other. This is our bond.”

I bristled at this reference to my contrived escape, and saw in his eyes an acknowledgment of my pain. His voice became almost kind.

“Yes, Yinnae. I know that which you suffered at my hands, though I was not with you. But I must gift to you this loss of home. It is my place to turn you from your homeland, and back to me. You must discover within yourself the will to return to me, Yinnae, for you and I must somehow be together, always. Never will we find peace until it is so: that we each make of our place and of our will one, only one.”

I looked away from him, looking out over the distant reaches of succeeding mountains and hidden valleys. All of those days of his searching, of his men’s searching, driving me before them... I knew those days again in my mind, remembering my grief, and the choice I had come to.He had known that his men would never find me, would never retake me until I chose to be retaken. He had intended only to make my choice clear to me, to focus my life upon the decision to return to him.

“Yes, Yinnae.” Then his voice became edged with distress. “But never did I guess that you would return to me thus... lost to your true self.” His words touched the center of my pain, and I felt the tears come, wetting my face. How strange that my life had become a loss that only one, only this one, could know of or understand.

He paused, his voice close and intimate, and as my eyes returned to his, he called me by the name only my mother had given me: “Make of yourself the gift, Nae..., and I will make you whole again. Let your true self be now your home.”

My heart cried out with renewed temptation, seeking a way out from my denial of his offering. And as he awaited the result of this inner wavering, I felt within myself the moment come at last, as my inner feelings opened, releasing the raw craving, the denied feelings hot as molten iron, pouring out as an unchecked anguish within. I was opened by this outpouring of longing, the passion to know again my freedom and my true form, a denied hunger by him knowingly released, opening and swelling within me with a false hope.

But though I sought again, and then again the answer which must somehow be mine, that by which I could satisfy this fierce assault of inner need, I could not find otherwise. Too well did I know that the cost was too high. Did I not remake myself so that I might escape his power over me, and all that he took from me? To that life I would not return. No. I would not give in. Still, I felt within myself a continued unfolding, an opening to a strangely new understanding...

He was right.

I stood up. He remained still, sitting upon the hillside. Standing before him, my eyes even with his, I put my hand upon my breast, feeling the pain there. And I made this pain completely my own, fashioning for it within my mind a beautiful gilt box. I would keep this pain, and cherish it well, the price of my freedom. For how could my heart know what price I must pay for my wholeness restored? The heart knew only now, could not know of or care about the future, and the consequence of desire. Still, I could not ask of my heart to set aside its true longing. Always would it want from, and feel this pain.

Dear one... I am so sorry… I spoke to myself as I put away the pain, made only larger with this final denial, stowing it with great tenderness in the gilt box I had fashioned for it, then felt myself again of one purpose. What fate made this one the keeper of my future...? I thought as I breathed the Carapathia, the temple-word of the heart. I looked closely at him, ready to face what must be faced.

“If I am now less, then it is you who have made me so, Bënawen. You, who made of me less when you took my freedom...” I felt my rage, piercing, heard it offered as a blade within my voice. “You, Bënawen... you have cheated me of my life, to increase your own. And now do you offer to make again what little you have left to me...?”

Still did I hear the sounds of the water below me, ever-flowing. Still did he sit before me, relaxed, though his eyes were now resigned, and becoming cold.

I spoke then in the formal G’ulach: “Thou art made ever larger only as I am made smaller.”

“To do to thyself as has been done ignores the soul,” he answered.

“To let go the soul is to learn again how to find it.”

“And to begin again is to turn thy back on all that has been lost, Yinnae.”

I leaned towards him, and knew that my eyes mirrored his, so cold and fierce: “I will not be tempted, Bëna. I remember; I remember all that you have done to me.”

He was silent then, and looked away, knowing my denial. I closed my eyes, and felt him still present within me, at the edge of my mind. And I remembered to him the days when he had made use of me, when he became each day more than the day before, and took from me that upon which he had sailed out past all boundaries of himself and the power he had known without my own.

“Bënawen ça Star, lost of the circle...” I broke from the chant, and gave to him this piece, looking out over the land that was to his people what it could never again be to him. Again I felt his anger; bright, then fading away.

“What is it to be lost, Yinnae?” His voice was adamantly clear. “It is a wide path, and deep, almost without boundary. I walk alone, without the circle of my people to hold me. I am lost that I might go where other worlds are known. I find… I know what is lost; to my people, and to all peoples. And if my path were to lead me back to them, perhaps they could allow that which is known in me. But I would still be lost, as I will always be lost, for my people are forever lost to me.”

I spat, felt myself stand upon my anger. “Speak not to me of your losses! Forever are my people lost to me... I who have no path, but to be dragged along with you, Lost One...”

I was done with words, and wanted only to face what must be faced.

“To be lost is to be again found,” he said, mocking my recent words.

“Dark One...” I spat again. His anger returned and did not go away. He was silent, thinking. I knew that he was making an effort to avoid force, though it was not his way.

“There is no other way besides force, Bëna. It is the path you have chosen, with me and in all things.”

“No, Yinnae.” He spoke immediately, his voice compelling, focused upon me. “I took you by force, it is true. I broke your defenses, and entered your self-soul...” He spoke aloud the powerful G’ulach word for the private body-soul, the exclusive universe of self, and the air around us shimmered with dissipating power. “But you have fought me in all things, Yinnae. It is you who requires force of me.”

I felt my own anger flaring bright within me at these words, and I turned away from him, denying him connection. After all I had lost to the service of this self-wrought monster... to say that it was my choice!

He was wrong. To be so aligned with the depths of darkness made him lost to me, and to most of this world. He walked with horror, and did not flinch. He brought delight to sit with cruelty, and began where most left off. I had felt it in him; I knew him well. He followed the darkness down, and it fed his being. But where was his true self when he destroyed, and caused suffering for his own ends? Did he not deaden his own soul, destroy his own spirit when he did so to others?

Nevertheless... there was something here that I touched, but did not yet understand. He was wrong, but he was also right.

Prastlich... I would never be like him, never look at my life and the world as he did. But there was something in what he was saying that was true, something in how he knew me which offered me the opportunity to think of my life in a new way, and so become more than the victim who struggled.

I looked back over my life. And I saw that I had dealt with him and with this ordeal in the same manner that I had always dealt with my life, only in an ever more extreme manner. I, who used my strength to set myself apart from all that threatened me. I withheld myself from him, and I was prepared in this withholding to change all that I was, even until death...

I looked out over the vistas that surrounded me, feeling my anger as a grim and inalterable presence within me. The opportunity, the way through was to be something other than I had yet known in this lifetime. I clearly sensed this new choice, like a doorway within me, though I knew not what might be beyond it. But in this moment I felt just as clearly my complete lack of willingness to open this door, and so to begin anew, for my anger now choked and clouded my being, feeding my determined and ruthless desire for undeniable retribution.

I stepped towards him, and watched as I willfully cast myself upon the fire of this inner desire’s consumption.

Speaking slowly, I challenged him with my eyes. "Take me, Dark One, and see what is to you now left of me..." And I made upon my heart, then threw from myself the sign of surrender, my eyes dark with a taunting denial.

I kept my eyes to him as he stood, as he stepped forward, crossing the little stream to stand before me, his eyes showing fire. And I braced myself as he stood over me, as he made again the place word, so that when he lifted his hands, making the sign that bent me to the ground and to his will, I did so at his circle, in Ellswood once more. Kneeling beside the ashen fire-circle, crouching beneath him and the now high sun shining down through the silent trees, I felt the fullness of his power going deep into the earth, and so grounded there. I heard him take the deep breath, and the hated words brought forth, dark and low. He chanted over me as I trembled at his feet, clinging to myself and to the things that I cherished, that I might remember myself no matter how much he took from me.

“Yinnae, daughter of Annina of the Faer, made unto him that is made unto her... Bënawen ça Star, son of G’ulach, lost of the circle... made unto her that is made unto him...”

He made the chant, again and then again, as he made also the unspoken magic that took from me the strength he made for himself. Many times had he thus occupied me, taking that which he desired in me, though it was now simply my will that he sought, and no longer my lifelong power, forever lost to me, and so to him.

I felt myself growing weaker, then weaker still, as I managed through great force of will to remain upright, to keep my body still and somehow my own as he took what he would, made what he would from this subjugation of my will. For though I now knelt before him remade as a frail human, with no power to add to his own, my will was all and my own in any form, and as strong as any magic I once made from it. And I held to this strength within myself, resisting him once more; even as I was bent beneath the grasping strength of his will, again covering my own.

And I saw that though my power had been precious, my will was a great prize to him, that he had desired most to win that which he could not take, and could never force from me: my voluntary surrender… so that he had always held back, awaiting this surrender.

Now would he wait no longer, but take what he could. Now did he push past my will with his own, so that I held fast against him, summoning my deepest strength. And always had I been able to remain so before, so that I thought myself stronger than him in this little way, though I would never use my power for darkness. But now did he continue to take what he would, as with so little effort he drained all that I clung to, still chanting over me the bond, until finally, tears starting onto my cheeks, I felt a tiny cry escape from me as I crumpled, felt myself go down, a broken heap at his feet. I knew then that he had held back before, that he had always let me keep unto myself a little. He had not drained me to this place of collapse, even when it had been for some time within his power.

And still did he chant. I lay in human fear at his feet, the sunlight warm upon my will-broken body. His voice echoed in my being, and seemed to multiply. But then it was not only his voice that echoed, but the men that I knew as his. With a surge I felt the trance-change, made from the chanting, and from the power of the circle now closed around me. Many hands lifted me, carrying me, men’s voices chanting the bond as my clothes were pulled from me, as I was laid out upon a flat and smooth place, the air cool on my exposed skin. And then was I lifted by a fabric there, beneath my body, so that I felt again the many hands as I was turned, over and over, until I was wrapped around and around with a soft cloth, fragrant as with herbs and smoke. And in this was I carried out into sunlight, a subtle warmth of light that penetrated the wrappings. Then did they lay my body upon something hard and still, a stone warmed by the sun.

I could breathe, but I could not move. I tried to speak, but my lips denied me, my body would not obey. I no longer felt weakness, nor my strength being taken from me, but only my mind, and my will which was not my own, which would not answer. Wrapped so, entranced and helpless, I felt nothing, then everything as an intense intimacy with self which somehow made as one the outline of the shared-trance and that of my own self-soul.

And ever the voices... Made unto him that is made unto her... made unto her that is made unto him... The words slightly muffled by the wrappings, echoing in my mind, over and over, so that I knew only the chanting, and the steady necessity of my breathing. And so it was, until the voices seemed all and everything to me, vibrating within me, until my body was all, and did not begin or end, but simply followed the endless rhythm, over and over, circling around me as though to be time itself, the passage of time given forth on this inner twilight, fashioned from the vanquished morning of my past.

And as the moments passed, the hours, the day, all that which must be passing as the chant wove around me the passage of time, I heard sometimes new voices beginning, and it seemed then that others ended. And this happened again and again; a wider circle of changes that moved on the rhythm that encircled me, that wove about me my reality.

And always did I feel him there, hearing his voice within the voices, until I wasn’t sure if I heard him with my senses, or in my mind. Until it was all as my mind, that I knew not where I ended and the world began, though it seemed I once knew a place where I was separate from these voices, from him and from the will that fueled his voice; intimate, knowing me, seeking to make all that I was his own, a part of him, always.

And as I floated in this place, this world in which self and other were becoming one, I came to focus upon the strangely distant, so steady sound of my own heartbeat, until even this sound was not my own, and I knew it as I knew a memory. I was lulled by this sound, and the memory of it, as the remembered heartbeat of an undivided universe, when I had been at my mother’s breast, when I had been within her womb, before I had known her as other, before there could be a boundary with which to define self. And I was warm within this universe, and was all, so that this and only were no more.

And so it was.

But the time came when the sound of the chanting had changed, the sound becoming so slowly and ever more distant, until I began to hear a second breath, so that I immediately knew again my own. And then I felt my inner self emerging once more, as one to another, for I knew this breath, as I knew this presence, this other-one who was now so close beneath my own re-emerging self.

And in my mind a place opened, and I saw beneath me, as though I floated above it, the violent blue of the crinnoua shell, surrounded by the circle made into three. And the circle was lit as though with fire, though I saw within it the reflection of the moon, as though the circle were also of stillest water beneath the full and rising moon. And then I saw his face, as beneath the water, as golden with the subtle firelight, his eyes closed, with the shell upon the place of his middlebrow, where the moon-goddess touched her own and gave the other-sight.

And then his eyes opened. His eyes for mine... so blue, more blue than the shell. And I felt his hand reach forth to touch me.

Immediately the vision was gone, and I felt again my body, a human body. And I knew with sorrow that in the vision I had been once more as my true self. I still heard all around me the men’s chanting, the sound no longer distant. And I could feel his body against me, below mine, his forehead against my own.

Somehow was I now upon his body, like a self lost but come upon this known but unsought shore. I could not move, but to take breath, could not open my eyes, though I still felt about myself the soft wrappings. And for a moment I felt terror, that I could not move at all, that he was so close and still beneath me. Then I felt him again in my self-soul, heard his voice within my mind.

Yinnae... I looked again in my mind’s eye, saw his body beneath my own, his eyes also closed, his body naked as mine. His voice was strangely soft, and full of feeling.

Yinnae... my own, as I am yours.

I was silent. I felt no desire to be with or without him, to breathe with his breath, or only of my own.

Yinnae... Give yourself to me this day. Make of yourself the gift, that I might make you whole.

No, Bëna. I heard myself answer in my mind, and in his own as well... and I marveled, for I found myself within his self-soul, and knew his world. He who was intensely alive, and yet married to death.

He was silent for a time, letting me feel whether the denial was my truth, or only the choice I had last made. When I did not waver, or speak again, he touched me inside; as he had once before, when he had overcome me, and tied my self-soul to his own. Again did I marvel, for he showed me a most secret place within himself; that place within his self-soul to which he had attached his bond to me. I saw there his need to possess others, an ever-growing hunger. And I knew the hunger within him for my complete subjugation, the desire to possess fully one of a power equal to his own.

He remembered to me the sureness I felt in my revenge, that I had remade myself to him and to myself. He followed my rage to the pain denied and hidden underneath. And still he waited, his touch so close to my hidden rage, but allowing it to remain completely as my own.

And then his voice inside me was almost a whisper, low and intimate, knowing me.

Yinnae, know me, and my world. Take up the bond, that you hold it as it holds you... that you now have me as I have you.

I knew immediately what he offered, knew then what this place was made for, that which he sought in this inner place of self and other. I smiled, though I felt within myself a rich and consummate sadness, that I would know such a one so well. And I was changed by this smile, such a sad smile of deepest understanding, for I knew then my true power over him, though he offered me the palest reflection of it.

He who took from me through force now offered to me this truce, through the dark power of force: equality in the bond.

And I saw that I was tempted; I who would never be released from him, who must somehow turn the bond to serve myself, though I did not choose or make it. But I did not desire the power of force, the use of power which he had mastered, for to make power over another would destroy that within me which I used to create this power. I knew this well, from the Goddess, and from my lifelong love and service to self, that only through power with another was true power made or exchanged.

Yet I saw also, and knew that I was truly tempted, for I had let myself know within him the joy of destruction, and the leveling certainty of the power to destroy; to take, and to twist, and to use without giving, without replenishing the source of the power gained. Such a life, such a determined extreme, and a perverse contempt for balance... His life was delicious and full; ever full of a profound emptiness, and the love of it. A life built upon the ashes of all that he touched, all that he consumed in the grim service of the great power he knew, all that he wielded with a boundless pleasure, so dark and terrible.

But none of this gave him the power he now sought: the power to make me seek him, as he sought me.

Still did his men chant the bond about us, we who were alone in this secret place of joining.

I felt him waiting, his pleasure in making for me such a dark temptation. I felt his inner-crafted openness, the artfulness beneath his surrender, and the deep desire to find me so open; to possess me fully.

Sélah, I sighed, making unto myself the little breath-devotion.

No, Bëna... I made the words in my mind, so small and final.

I felt his soul shrink as he pulled inward, then growing again as rage and willfulness filled his being, so that I thought that he might destroy me then, and be done with me, and the point of pain I had become within his being, so contracted and dark. I opened myself to him then, ready to fall quickly, to be killed and so released. Extinguished by a single flash of fury, consumed as fuel for a far-flung moment of perverse delight and hatred. Surely he would align himself with this rage, with his desire for this ultimate act of destruction, the annihilation of an entire universe, my own.

But he did not touch me with his rage, or make use of its energy. I felt him turn from me, and the opening between us close. I was alone, but for the sound of the men’s chanting, and the place beneath me that was again as stone, cold and unyielding.

 ~ . . . ~

Vaguely I sensed the change, and knew its source: it was nightfall, and the voices who left the chant were not replaced by the return of others, rested and stronger. I felt this change keenly, and clung to it as the mirror of my self, separate from these outer changes. Gradually the chanting became softer, more intimate. I felt the coldness of night settling, sensed the lighted world shrinking. And though I could not see it, I knew the moment when the veil to the heavens parted, when the land was touched by the stillness of the dark eternity beyond. And I greeted the night with my heart, though I could find no words for devotion.

But then I listened closely to the chanting, for I found again his voice, then felt his will focused completely upon me. Immediately I felt a great change in him. I heard it in his voice, and felt it in his soul-touch. And as the other voices were passing into silence, his voice became to me ever more clear, steady in the shrinking world and of a growing night.

And then was his voice alone; the only voice left to me. We were alone, and as he chanted over me the bond, the tone in his voice also spoke to me, saying: I am here, Yinnae... still here with you. Alone... I chant to you. And then his inflection changed, so that he no longer chanted, but simply spoke the words as his truth, and I wondered at the emotion in his voice.

When the chant ended, it was because we were alone and silent. The silence was profound.

For many breaths was this silence unbroken, measured only by our breathing, and the changes of night. And then I heard again his voice, very soft, invoke the G’ulach name for the moon, goddess-ruled, to whom his rituals were always made from him as supplicant. And I heard, but did not understand, for he spoke to her the G’ulachen word of farewell which meant forever. I could hear a sadness in his voice, could sense the deep feeling in his body, and I was amazed, for never was he revealing of himself in this way, before myself or any other. Always before had he been controlled and private, though I had come to know him well in my time of service to him.

And then I saw her in my mind, fair Gaewyn standing smiling and solemn before him. He lifted up his hand, that she took something from him, that his hand dropped away, empty. Then he knelt before her, head down, so that he did not see her press it to her heart, or that she looked down upon him with sorrow and pity before she was gone.

And then I felt his hand upon my body, and the trance was ended. The darkness was my own, and the world was else and other, though I could not see it. I tried to move, and felt my muscles tremble, becoming steady, and then somehow strong, though not yet able to answer me. I forced myself to wait, felt my strength returning, felt his presence beside me.

And as his hand pressed upon me through the wrappings, I felt within him a preparation. He seemed to struggle within himself, that I sensed a growing tension in his body. As it came to me his purpose, as I heard him taking breath to speak, there was to me that but one and final moment in Ellswood before he spoke aloud the word that made travel, so closely paired with those that went with a place that I knew well, but which he had never known, except through me.

And then he was yet with me, and I was home.


	4. Chapter 4

I felt the coolness of mountain air and immediately struggled, found myself to be strong and free but for the wrappings. He held me, and quickly slid them from me, letting them fall to the ground. So sharply I stepped away from him and stood, rigid with feeling, my eyes moving across the darkened land. South Road... we were on South Road! I was far from the high valley that was Cin Faer, far from my home and family. But the sweet smelling Rouserose was everywhere, as were the tall round-topped stalks of the Immana Bush, shifting slightly with the night breeze. The night was yet moonless, and the land was dark and silent, but for the wind. I breathed deeply, closing my eyes, tasting... feeling the energy of place in my body.

I was home.

Slowly I lifted my eyes to the sharp-rising peaks of Faerland, now so close around me; their immortal snows glowing with that strange and ethereal bluish-white of so many other moonless nights, and with a familiar star-touched beauty which created in my sorrow-stricken heart a sweet and urgent spark, setting all of my soul afire.

I turned away from him then, and made tears that were my own. The night air came from everywhere, moving everywhere upon my human skin, and my hair was loose, and moved against my back in a delicious way that I felt I would remember with this moment, forever. I let my body shake with emotion, looking out across the land as the joy and a deep sadness poured out from my heart and filled my entire being, so much so that I felt myself too small to hold so much, though I let it open me, and did not deny it.

And then I noticed also the very human fear start within me; that he would take me away, as quickly as we had come. But the fear could not take root in my emotion-filled being, and fell as a tare upon stone.

At last I turned back to him, still standing beside me, waiting. He was also unclothed, with his long hair loose and flowing over his broad shoulders, moving with the breeze. Our eyes met, but he looked away at the questioning look in my own eyes, so that I waited, wondering, feeling the energy of this place resonate within me, unable to fathom the change in him, or in his purpose.

For a long moment we stood so, until he brought again his eyes to mine.

His eyes for mine, and the soul-touch, that I felt it in him... that this man came to knock, who before had only taken, and remade as his own. And I saw it deep and everywhere in him, and in his eyes, eyes that reflected his world: the great sadness I had sensed in him before.

I felt that I must speak, or await with him my own willingness to begin. For he waited now for me, that I would open the place between us, in whatever way, whether large or small. I knew it also, that he could not speak first, and be other than he had been. And this newness in him, a tender willingness... this true humility in him touched me.

“Bëna...” I spoke low, soft, with the wind just audible around us, the soul-breath moving over the earth and through the garden that adorned this place with life, grown of the physical will to fully adorn with love. I could feel his response, his will to focus, felt his energy find the earth, and there, mine. And as I looked at him, I knew that he was intensely aware of us, and of this moment. Of standing here, with me, and on this soil, of me looking at him, and he at me, waiting.

“Bëna...” I spoke again, my voice a reproach and a permission.

Yinnae... I heard in my mind, after a moment of the true silence, though his face changed not at all.

“Speak, Bëna,” I chided aloud, my voice low. “Do not make me wait. I cannot be toyed with, not here...” I felt the fear start again in my heart, and my eyes pleaded with his. “This is my home, Bëna...”

His lips almost smiled.

Oh, but his eyes... Resigned, haunted. He looked up, out across the darkened land. I felt him touching inside upon words, as though to find his tongue before he again brought his eyes to mine. And then did he make a little smile. Bringing his hand to his heart, he smiled a wry little smile, though his eyes were dark and clear. He seemed to remember his purpose, grasp for the logic of a chosen course. Finally he spoke, his voice low, dark and as haunted as his gaze.

“I will speak, Yinnae... if you will listen. And I will give to you... as I have given to you your home and your freedom.” My spirit soared with these last words, but he made the claim-sign, that I wait to speak, though he found again the silence before he continued.

“Yinnae, I come now to you... Know this, that I come to you. Why? Why do I come here, to stand now before you?” He paused then, and spoke so very softly: “To make the gift, Yinnae. To give... that you might come to me, Nae...” And then he made to me the offering step, the signifier of the arwaen, that of the gift.

He offered me everything! I felt myself deeply moved, though I was still closed to him. He shook his head as I looked at him closely, struggling to understand this great change in him. I still found in him all that I knew of him, all of the ruthless man of darkness that had overcome me, but also a humility and willingness that seemed now to rise above all that he was, and had ever been.

And as he stood with his eyes unto mine, it seemed that I saw in those eyes an entire world passing away into another place, where he could not follow, and would never go. And the loss was so great, so immense... that I wondered that he yet held himself open, awaiting that which must somehow follow.

Still he shook his head, as though to deny my inner struggle, as one who was now beyond all struggle.

“Listen...” his voice was soft, and of the compelling fullness of now. His eyes for mine... he held my gaze, found and held again the true silence, that which we shared. Then his body relaxed, becoming somehow open as he seemed to find a deep place, to overcome a careful and practiced resistance.

Then he clearly spoke aloud to me his own true name.

I stopped, felt all within myself become completely still. I knew it, heard it as his name. I felt all that I knew of him given the true name, made one in my knowing. And I knew then that I was completely free. My life, my home were irrevocably my own. Nothing he now wrought would ever hold me, for we were now made equal in the bond.

Almost equal.

He stepped forward, so that his eyes were closer to mine, suddenly fierce with feeling.

“Listen, Yinnae, and hear...” Would this man now make tears before me? He sighed, and I heard his pain become breath as he spoke. “Know this, Yinnae... That everything I have taken from you...” and his voice became suddenly low and bitter, subtle with fierceness, “...has made of me your slave.”

I heard myself inhale sharply. He knew that this use of the forbidden naming-word for enslavement would shock me. My answer echoed first in my own mind, pulling from the steady depths of my rage: He calls himself slave?!

I felt myself stand above him, I who had equal power with him, nay, more... for I knew his true name, though he knew not my own. But I quickly checked this place of will within myself. I, who now possessed the power to destroy him.

Dear one... I spoke inside, consoling myself, acknowledging my losses. For I knew it well, and more so after my time with this one, that to control or destroy another would never restore what I had lost, would never make me whole.

When at last I spoke, my voice was made from a calm anger, which stood upon truth only, and did not push.

“It is I who have served you, Bëna... against my will.”

He spoke as one impatient with a child, as one who must labor for the inevitable. “Speak my name, Yinnae. Say now my true name.” I heard the controlled anger in his voice, and the openly offered sincerity I still saw so clearly in him, and which I had never known in him before.

“Say it, Yinnae,” he reached out, touching my shoulder gently, so that I pulled away, stepping back from him.

“Your touch has used me, Bëna. You shall never touch me again...” I felt the fire of my anger upon my lips.

“Ha! You abuse me...” he accused. No smile from his haunted eyes. “Witch of the soul...” He again shocked me with his abuse of the sacred word for those of the Goddess-vow. He walked around me a little, as one who had known and used my body, so that we scowled at one another, as though to armor, to bare our teeth. But his voice had a vulnerability under the bitterness that we both heard, and which compelled me to listen, for I heard the telling of his heart in words now freed from the deepest place, spilling out from him at last, his voice bitter and laden with feeling.

“I know it well, Yinnae... that you thrill not at my step back from the fullest depths of darkness, which I face always... Which I have known, deep and terrible, and endless as a soul could ever want. For I... I have had more than my own life, far more than one life only...” With his face and his voice did he sneer as he spoke, standing so close to me now in the darkness, his eyes blue and of the cold fire I knew within him.

Then he stepped back again, and looked about, his hands and arms opening beside him, so that he seemed to speak of all that he knew, that was his world.

“I am Bënawen ça Star, outcast of G’ulach! I have taken with the power of destruction all that might be freely mine, and kept only that which I became with the taking. I have not protected. I have not built...” I heard the tears of a bitter loss seeking expression behind his voice, but he only spat, glaring at me through the darkness. “I have not protected in myself the little places and the little choices of a life built upon truth, upon the honoring of self. Pah! This but not that... This far and no further. To be only my own self, and one only, who is in every little thing a certain way, and no other.... Pah!!”

He looked up at the dark sky, and for a moment we stood so, beneath the manifold patterns of bright stars set amidst the chaotically strewn pinpoints of so many dimmer stars, so close here upon the high places. His voice was still soft as he spoke even and clear into the night, as he opened his pale arms beneath the black heavens: “I have known that which has taken me fully, and broken every boundary that made me before but a man. To serve darkness and destruction has made of me something great and free...”

He turned again to me, and his voice rang out formal, as if in pronouncement, though his words soon broke with feeling: “But I have found my undoing in you, Yinnae d’Annina of the Faer. I, who willingly buried what was left of my heart under your suffering. Under you... where you have in treachery....” his voice broke, as with cold tears, so that only his lips could smile, “...regenerated my other-will and true desire to align myself with life, to be of life... of which I am made...”

His words rang coldly, and on an infinite silence, followed only by the wind, moving softly around us, so that we heard and felt it, as a witness to our barter. That it found us here, that we heard one another, and made words.

For a long while did I let his words remain between us, hearing them again. I felt myself at this moment in my life, and the life of another... a moment that would in some way be tied to every breath, every thought and action that followed. I felt myself large, and becoming larger, so that I stood easily and firmly before this strange man, whom I had hated, and who now offered his life to me. And I knew it well, and marveled deeply, this: that the power of love would require of me more than I had felt prepared to give, but which I would somehow give anyway.

I was fortunate, and thanked the Goddess with deepest gratitude, for I had already forgiven him. It was my right to never do so, and to live with the consequences, but I had somehow found this peace. Perhaps I still asked too much of myself, to be the one who would bring him back. But it was in this moment of silence that I asked it of myself, and listened well, ready to give truly the answer I found within my own heart.

I remembered the moment when I had looked out over the highlands of G’ulach... was it truly this same day? I retraced there my commitment to anger, my unwillingness to choose the new path which I found before me. And I sensed again the opening place within myself; a doorway which was now open, an archway through which I could see a new place.

I looked at him, and saw his suffering. I felt in my heart his open bitterness, that he resigned himself to that in me which had gained power over him. But I also felt in him a choice; that he had chosen this path, and wanted it for himself, to be joined with his true purpose.

“Bënawen...” I spoke gently. He looked at me, and I marveled to see such a vulnerable and open sadness in his proud eyes. I felt myself smile, then slowly held my hand out to him.

And I watched as he again made the offering step, standing close before me. I knew then that what he spoke was truth. This one, this one... would make the gift, to me. His willingness was of a depth I had never known, to be as he was, and give all to another, even his true name, that he might be healed. Even to me, whom he had overcome and misused, whom he had bound unwillingly to himself. And to whom he had now offered his true name, and so the power to take any revenge I desired from him.

He reached for my hand, his eyes for my own... gently placing his hand upon my own, waiting. And when I would allow it, so slowly he moved my hand to his breast, placed it there upon his breast.

We stood so, and in the small moment before he began, I knew all that would be. I knew that when I had received and then gifted to him in return all that he was, and all that he might now be, then would I make of the bond that which was truly equal in power. I would gift myself to him, that he could restore me to my true form, yea. But I would also give to him that which was most precious, and which would bind us forever in truth. I would offer to him my own true name, though it was not required for the arwaen. Our power would be great in each other, and never again in one more than in the other. And so it would always be, for the rest of our years, whether we were together, or apart, or forever parted.

He released my hand, and stood before me. My spirit was calm, and my heart full as I felt the gift-place in him open, the self-knowing energy flowing down through his body and into the earth. I stood ready before him as he lifted his hands, palms up, the energy gently flowing out of his hands, and then into me. And when he spoke the release word, the offering found me well, even in this human body, for I felt the place within me that knew him, now given name, opened and made like a vessel for all that he was. I felt his fears and his desires, his struggles and his mastery. I knew him, I allowed him, I mirrored him within my own soul.

I accepted the gift.

I spoke aloud his true name, so that he was deeply moved, and began to weep. I stood before him, the one who would now give to him in return everything that he was.

He spoke: “I find now this truth, Yinnae: that to unmake your suffering is to remake what I have used in my own self, that which I have burned in myself to make as heat under my wings. Call me, Yinnae of Faerfire, that I am now yours, and again my own. Gift to me... return to me all that which I have lost, which I have used, and so consumed of my self.” His voice was touched with a sweet hope, though filled also with deepest pain, that of re-crossing his own ruin.

I looked into his eyes as I spoke aloud the release word, then offered as gift all that I knew of him, all that he had offered to me, and from my own life, all that he had used in himself to take from me, remade as his dark power. And with a great joy did I gift to him all that he had destroyed in himself, again and again, as the means with which to ally himself with the disconnecting power of darkness, that of unlimited darkness and perversity, the fuel with which to propel himself deeper into the depths of darkest discovery. For I had known well these places in him in my own time of darkness, beneath his hand.

He wept. And as we stood so, the moon had just found the edge of this, our night; a silvered sliver-moon sparkled now upon the snow-topped peaks that here encircled the heavens.

And then I saw her behind him, the goddess Gaewyn, fair and beautiful in the night. She revealed herself to me, though he found her within himself, and did not turn to her. And I saw on her face his release, the grief and the joy that he now felt, that she felt with him, and that went with this moment, when he closed one door and opened another. And I understood then his farewell to her in Ellswood this day. Never again would he come to her as he had been. He was reborn to her now, and to himself.

And she called to him in G’ulach, naming him Araben, the delight of morning. He opened his hand to her, and she placed something upon it, his fingers closing around it as he wept. Then was she gone.

It was a long time before he could stop weeping.

I felt the Goddess speak through me, her words coming forth as one with my own.

“Do not fret, Dark One...” I spoke gently as he wept silently, calling him now by the G’ulach name for night, and never again the word for soul-dead I had used with him this same day. “You will not lose all that you have been. For you must keep your love for darkness and perversity, and express them well. You must cherish always all that they have given you, even as you learn to accept the stewardship of self, and the deepest joy that comes from a life well lived, as a whole being, and as one only, though divinely wrought and infinite in the spirit that is all.”

At last he turned his head, and standing tall and again self-proud, gazed at me calmly, his heart open and untroubled, though he still made tears.

“Yinnae.” He spoke my name with love, and softly with his tears, making at his heart the hand sign for deepest gratitude, the acknowledged soul-debt.

“Araben.” I answered, acknowledging his obligation to me, given always to the Goddess. And I smiled, receiving the release and gratitude I found in his eyes, the eyes of one who now found within himself an unlooked for redemption, who gazed upon the beauty and grace that pours forth as mystery from the source of all life.

I also wept, lifting my eyes to the beautiful peaks of my beloved Cin Faer, radiant as jewels, and to the surrounding peaks of Faerfire strung together as a brilliant necklace upon the heavens. And as I made within a devotion for the stewardship of self I attained in this life, I found inside of myself, newly born, the openness and the deep willingness required to gift myself to him, to make with him the arwaen.

And when my eyes again found his, and I had made the offering step, when I again took breath, and opened my lips to speak, I spoke aloud to him my own true name.


End file.
